


Harmless Flirting is Never Really Harmless

by haey1



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Flirting, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-02-19 09:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22008934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haey1/pseuds/haey1
Summary: Grantaire doesn’t know how it started. It was supposed to be a joke. Outlandish flirting with Enjolras, because even the notion of them dating is absolutely ridiculous. Constantly touching or cuddling because it’s funny. Because there’s no world in which Enjolras would actually date Grantaire. That’s how it’s supposed to be.So what the hell is Grantaire supposed to do, six months later, when he is hopelessly in love with Enjolras?
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 198





	1. Chapter 1

Grantaire doesn’t know how it started. It was supposed to be a joke. Outlandish flirting with Enjorlas, because even the notion of them dating is absolutely ridiculous. Constantly touching or cuddling because it’s funny. Because there’s no world in which Enjorlas would actually date Grantaire. That’s how it’s supposed to be.

So what the hell is Grantaire supposed to do, six months later, when he is hopelessly in love with Enjorlas?

It started last Friday night. Well, that’s when Grantaire finally realized what he was feeling, who knows how much longer it had been going on. They were all at Courfeyrac’s apartment watching another one of those god awful Hallmark movies. Everyone was arguing over whether or not the main boy was creepy or cute, but despite the noise, Grantaire couldn’t hear a thing. He was much too focused on Enjorlas’ arm lying casually on his shoulders like it was made to be there.

It wasn’t unusual for Enjorlas to put his arm around him. It was quite a common occurrence between the two of them, with Grantaire usually saying something along the lines of, “Are you coming on to me?”

Enjorlas would always respond with an eye roll and a “You love it.”

Grantaire would always just give him a wink. The rest of the Amis would groan.

Tonight, though, there was no funny banter. Enjorlas wasn’t even shouting about the woman in the movie’s right to make her own life decisions. If you didn’t know Enjorlas, you’d say he was just trying to watch the movie, but Grantaire knew Enjorlas better than he knew himself. 

If Enjorlas was quiet, it’s because he was upset. Not his normal upset, either, all righteous fury and gallivanting justice. No, this was something gnawing at him.

“I’m going to the kitchen,” Enjorlas said to the room, though no one could hear him over the shouts about the movie woman’s choice of a cocktail dress. 

“I’ll come with you,” Grantaire said, his mouth moving before he had time to really think about what he was doing.

Normally, Enjorlas would tease him about just wanting to get him alone or some other mindless flirt, but instead, he just gave Grantaire a slight nod.

In the kitchen, Grantaire went through a whole routine of getting two glasses down, waiting until the tap ran cold, and filling them up with crystal clear water. He was sure to only get ice for Enjorlas’ glass, just the way he liked it. Finally, he turned and faced Enjorlas, who was leaning against the counter and staring at the painting on the wall. It was a dumb sunflower thing Grantaire had painted and gave to Courfeyrac years ago. He was proud of it at the time, but now, under Enjorlas’ critical gaze, he wasn’t so sure.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Grantaire asked him as he handed him his glass.

“I think you did a very nice job with the coloring-”

“Not the painting, you bastard,” Grantaire interrupted, trying - and failing - not to think too hard about the compliment. “Do you wanna talk about what has you so...” he gestured vaguely in the air.

“I’m fine.”

“Bullshit. You’re acting differently.”

“How do I normally act?”

Vibrant, thought Grantaire, captivating and absolutely exhilarating to watch.

“Loud.”

Enjorlas let out a weak huff of laughter.

“I mean,” Grantaire started to backtrack, “normally, you would be joining in on the debate. You would be saying something like ‘The paradigm of the patriarchy is alive and well in the misogynistic view that women must change themselves for men.’”

Enjorlas smiled at him, private and gentle like they were sharing a secret just for them. Grantaire tried to commit it to memory. 

“That is a scarily good impression of me.”

“Perks of being your boyfriend,” Grantaire meant it as a joke but in the small space between the kitchen counters, it felt truer than it probably should.

Enjorlas wouldn’t stop staring at Grantaire with an unreadable expression on his face. Anxiety rose in his chest but vulnerability was never his strong suit. He cooled his expression into his ever-present smirk and stared right back. 

Enjorlas crossed the distance between them and placed his glass in the sink behind Grantaire. When he was done, he didn’t step back though. He just turned to face Grantaire, clearly weighing a decision in his mind. Grantaire made sure to appear calm and collected from his stance, but his quickened breaths gave away his true terror at the moment, of being utterly seen by another human being.

Enjorlas put his hand on Grantaire’s arm, “Grantaire, I -”

Just then, footsteps wandered nearer to the kitchen and Enjorlas quickly dropped his arm. Marius walked in, oblivious to the moment he had just destroyed. 

“Do you guys know where the popcorn is?” Marius asked the two men.

“Yeah, it’s just…” Enjorlas guided him to the bags of snacks in the cabinet and followed Marius back into the living room. 

Grantaire stared at the spot where Enjorlas had once stood, so close to him. Had his hair always looked so golden and blazing? Had his skin always looked so soft? Grantaire shook his head and grabbed a beer from the fridge. Whatever just happened, he was too sober to process it.

When Grantaire walked back into the living room, Enjorlas had moved to sit next to Combeferre. Grantaire tried not to think about how empty the couch felt without him there. He tried not to think about how Enjorlas’ hand had traced patterns on his bicep. He tried not to think about Enjorlas’ hand on his arm in the kitchen and his whispered “Grantaire.” He tried not to think about just how beautiful he had looked in the moment.

“Hey, Grantaire,” Courfeyrac shouted across the group, “did you and Enjorlas go have a hot makeout session in the kitchen?”

“I’m not one to kiss and tell,” Grantaire joked and hoped the tension hadn’t spread to his voice. The whole group laughed and turned their attention back to the film. 

He took another long sip from his beer and looked over to where Enjorlas sat staring mindlessly at the TV. His face was oddly serene, like the classical Greek sculptures of Apollo, all perfected proportions of beauty.

Fuck, Grantaire was screwed.


	2. Some Harm Was Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras and Grantaire get into one of their legendary fights.

Grantaire hadn’t seen Enjolras since that night at Courfeyrac’s. Not that he normally would have but his absence seems more ever-present as of late. There was, however, one place he knew Enjolras would be without fail every Thursday evening.

Grantaire arrived to the Amis meeting early, or early for him, which meant 5 minutes late. He slipped into his usual spot in the back with a beer already in hand. The meeting hadn’t officially started yet. Everyone was still milling about and making light conversation. 

Everyone that is, except Enjolras, who was in the middle of a very impassioned argument with Combeferre. About what, Grantaire couldn’t tell, but Enjolras was doing that thing he does when he’s upset where he runs his fingers through his hair - and why  _ the fuck _ does Grantaire even know this. 

“You’re here early,” Courfeyrac said to him.

“I’m five minutes late.”

“Which for you, means you’re ten minutes early.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes, “What’s Enjolras’ deal?”

Courfeyrac sighed, “You know… it’s his same old bullshit.” Across the room, Enjolras was pushing a pamphlet into Combeferre’s chest with an absurd amount of passion.

“What? Did someone say Marxism and Communism were the same thing again?” Courfeyrac laughed and Grantaire joined in with him and their laughter seemed to break Enjolras out of his indignant rampage.

Enjolras turned and looked at the pair of them like they were a personal affront to the entire cause. He then addressed the group at large, “Well, if everyone is here, we may as well get started.” There was some good-natured groaning as everyone settled into their usual seats.

Bahorel sat down next to him and then leaned in to talk to Grantaire, “Why’d you get here early?”

“I was five minutes late.”

“Which for you, is early. We normally have ten minutes of free time before Enjolras starts the meeting.”

“It’s not like he waits for me.” Bahorel gave him a look that made it very clear that Enjolras does, in fact, wait for him. “Normally, you guys are already mid talk when I get here.”

“Well, yeah. Enjolras can’t make it seem like he’s waiting for you.”

“That makes absolutely no sense.”

Bahorel didn’t say anything more, however, so Grantaire tuned into the latest episode of Enjolras Tries to Take Over the World. It was currently focusing on how displays of wealth are vagrant, immoral, and promotes a culture of idolizing the rich who do nothing but hoard money and weaken the working man. 

The rhetoric was a bit strong for Grantaire’s taste and honestly, he was actively trying to get too drunk to care. When Enjolras finally got to the part of what he expected the Amis to actually do about it, Grantaire paid close attention. 

“Our plan,” Enjolras explained, “is to vandalize all cars on the main streets that are worth over $50,000. Now this could be through keying it, spray paint, smashing windows, lighting it on fire-”

“Are you out your fucking mind?” Grantaire loudly interrupted. Everyone else fell silent. All eyes turned to watch the oncoming hurricane that was Grantaire and Enjolras’ legendary fights.

“Do you have a critique of our plan, Grantaire?” Enjolras asked calmly.

“Yeah, several.” Grantaire stood up a little shakingly. “May I have the floor, oh glorious leader?” Grantaire asked sarcastically.

Enjolras rolled his eyes, “if you must.”

“First of all is the question of legality which I know you don’t care about but for the rest of us whose Daddy can’t bail us out of prison or miss a work day, being arrested isn’t an option.”

Enjolras squared his jaw. Grantaire knew that talking about his family’s copious wealth makes him upset. It’s why he does it often. 

“We won’t get caught,” interrupted Enjolras.

“How, may I ask? Do you have an invisibility cloak I don’t know about? Because you’re trying to commit mass property damaged on the most populated, well surveillanced, and tourist covered streets of Paris.”

“We’ll do it at night.”

“This city doesn’t have a night. It has a time when the street lamps come on. You’re the smartest person in this room, Enjolras. For once, in your life, put that pretty head of yours to some good fucking use.”

“Do you not support what we’re trying to do here?”

“I think your plan is stupid and reckless and you’re just asking to get your ass thrown back in jail.”

“I’m trying to make the world better for the working man. You’re just too much of a coward to do anything but drink your problems away.”

“You don’t know fuck shit about the working man. Your Father pays your rent on a two-bedroom apartment with a kitchen the size of my studio. You haven’t earned a goddamn thing in your life.”

Enjolras stood there silent for a moment, staring down Grantaire with a cold, stony glare. “I would like you to leave Grantaire.”

“Excuse me?” Grantaire stood in the middle of the room, ready to deflect whatever Enjolras threw at him next, but nothing came. Enjolras just stared at him until finally Grantaire packed up his things and walked out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a bit of a tone shift, so let me know what you guys think. Chapter 3 will be posted in the coming days, don't worry!


	3. Will These Idiots Ever Communicate? (Signs Point to No)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire has an unexpected visitor.

Grantaire spent his next two hours getting fabulously drunk at a bar down the street from the Musain and then stumbling back to his apartment where he was greeted by a familiar face.

“Enjolras, what the hell are you doing here?” 

Enjolras stood and put his book away.  _ Of course, he was reading and not on his phone like a normal human being _ , thought Grantaire.

“I, um,” Enjolras looked at him with wide eyes, “You came early to the meeting.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. He had heard much too about this tonight. “I was five minutes late.”

“Yeah, but for you that’s early.”

Grantaire stared at Enjolras for a long moment, waiting for his next move, but Enjolras stayed silent. “Well, if that’s all you wanted to say, I’m going to go to bed.” Grantaire moved past Enjolras on the steps but Enjolras grabbed his arm and stopped him.

“I shouldn’t have thrown you out. I’m sorry.” Enjolras stared up at Grantaire.

“Wow, an apology from the Greek God Apollo himself. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Grantaire.”

“Don’t worry about it, babe. I was out of line. I almost always am.” 

Enjolras gave him a pained expression. “You were right though. The plan was reckless.”

Grantaire looked at him as if he was an alien. “Are you alright? Are you getting paid to say this?”

Enjolras just groaned, “Is that out of line for me to say something nice to you?”

“When it’s not a joke? Yes.” Enjolras looked like he’d been slapped, “Look, do you wanna come up and talk about whatever it is that’s bothering you?”

Enjolras looked up at the sky as if it could provide him the answers he wanted. “Yeah, sure.”

They walked into Grantaire’s apartment which was, in fact, the size of Enjolras’ kitchen. It consisted of a bed, a kitchenette, a tiny bathroom, and a shit ton of art supplies strewn all over the place. There were paintings drying in front of the one window and paintbrushes lying in the sink.

“Sorry about the mess,” Grantaire said to Enjolras, who was looking around like he was in an art museum. “Have you been here before?”

“No,” Enjolras was transfixed on the half-finished painting on Grantaire’s counter. It was a portrait of a lounging man; there wasn’t a head but there were long legs in black jeans and a red coat open to a bare chest. Of course,  _ that _ was the painting Grantaire had left out. “Who is this?”

“No one, don’t worry about it,” Grantaire said a little too quickly. Enjolras turned to look at him.

“No, really. Who is it?”

“It doesn’t matter, Apollo,” and then, because Grantaire has no self-control, he added, “I’m not cheating on you don’t worry. You’re much too pretty for that.”

It was their usual banter but it seemed to strike a wrong chord in Enjolras. His face contorted itself to that unreadable expression and his shoulders tensed like he was holding the world upon them.

“I made a mistake coming here. I’m sorry,” Enjolras then turned on his feet and pushed past Grantaire and down the stairs. Grantaire shouted his name after him but it was late and he was much too drunk to go chasing him down the street.

Grantaire returned to his apartment, grabbed a beer, and opened up his sketchpad. He flipped past the sketches of Enjolras in a meeting, Enjolras at a protest, Enjolras’ arm around his shoulder, and started a new one: Enjolras running away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the short chapter but the final chapter will be up soon!


	4. What was all this flirting for?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras and Grantaire finally talk it out.

Grantaire showed up at Enjolras’ apartment the following evening. He hadn’t meant to come here, but he went on a walk after work and his feet seemed to have a mind of their own. Or maybe they just heard the endless chatter in Grantaire’s mind because he just could not get Enjolras out of his head.

He called Enjolras because unlike the other boy, he had enough respect to give him some fair warning.

“Hello?” Enjolras’ voice was distant and focused. Grantaire was interrupting something and for a moment he thought that this was all a stupid idea.

“Hey babe, I’m outside your apartment and I’m about 5 seconds from throwing rocks at your window.”

Grantaire heard some rustling on the other end of the line and then Enjolras’ window did in fact open up. He poked his golden head of hair out the window and gave Grantaire a wide and almost panicked smile.

“Hey,” Enjolras said, but he seemed to have remembered something, and his smile was replaced with a look that Grantaire could only describe as  _ serious business Enjolras _ .

“I need to talk to you, and as much as I’d love to recreate the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet, now is not the time.”

“Right, yeah. I’ll let you up.” Enjolras disappeared and a few moments later, there was a buzzing that indicated the unlocking of the front door. Grantaire climbed the few flights of stairs until he was greeted by a distant looking Enjolras standing in his front door.

Enjolras didn’t say anything, just opened the door wider and walked inside, expecting Grantaire to follow behind him, which of course he did. Grantaire would follow him anywhere.

Enjolras stood defensive in his living room, arms crossed tight against his chest as if preparing for battle. “You wanted to talk?”

Grantaire took note of Enjolras’ posture and his general dismissive demeanor and took great offense. “Yeah. What the fuck is going on with you?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes and turned to look out at the street. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Grantaire.”

“Bullshit.”

Enjolras just scoffed in response.

“You acted weird at Courfeyrac’s apartment, then you yelled at me in front of the entire Amis which is not exactly out of character for you but what is, is you then showing up on my fucking doorstep and then running out of my apartment as if you’d just witnessed a murder. Did I leave anything out?”

Enjolras remained staring out the window but offered a muttered, “No.”

“So enlighten me, Apollo. What’s going on?”

Enjolras looked at Grantaire with the feral intensity of a forest fire. Any normal person would drop it, but not Grantaire. Grantaire never knew how to drop a challenge. Grantaire took two large steps right into Enjolras’ space. They were so close that Grantaire could feel Enjolras’ breath. He could feel the heat radiating off of him in angry waves.

“What’s going on is that I can’t think when I’m around you,” Enjolras didn’t back away and neither could Grantaire.

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Grantaire whispered into the space between them.

“It means...” Enjolras looked to the sky and when he looked back at Grantaire, his breath hitched. Something changed in Enjolras’ expression, for just one moment, the fear melted away into pure determination. Enjolras took another step forward and kissed Grantaire.

Grantaire melted into the kiss. He moved his mouth in sync with Enjolras’ and reached up his hands to grasp Enjolras’ arms. The touch of his hand seemed to jerk Enjolras awake. Enjolras broke the kiss and stepped away quickly.

“This was all a mistake, I’m sorry,” Enjolras wouldn’t look at him.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Grantaire nearly shouted at him. “You don’t get to kiss me and then say that.”

“Look, I know you have a boyfriend or whatever-”

“What on God’s green earth are you talking about?”

“I saw that painting in your apartment of that boy.”

“Enjolras, are you insane?”

“I don’t want to be in the middle of something or cause a problem with your relationship or-”

Grantaire practically shouted to cut off his rambling, “That painting was you, you bastard!”

Enjolras looked up at Grantaire for the first time since they kissed. “What?”

Grantaire took a step toward him until he was once again in arms reach. “That boy I painted was you, you idiot.” Grantaire put his arms around Enjolras’ neck and the other boy looked on dumbstruck.

“So there’s no boy,” Enjolras said slowly.

“No boy,” Grantaire gave him an easy smile and Enjolras’ face broke out in total joy. He smiled wide back at Grantaire and put his arms around his waist. He leaned down to give him a kiss, one filled with the passion and years of longing from afar. It was the kind of kiss he should have done weeks ago and the kind of kiss that he would never grow tired of receiving. 

After a few moments, Grantaire slowly broke away. “Well, at least all that flirting was worth it.” 

Enjolras laughed and gave him the most lovesick smile, “It certainly was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was fun. Thank you to everyone who commented and inspired me to keep writing this. Thank you to Lex especially. Love you. I think I'm gonna do a long form thing next, so watch out for that.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, I have no idea what I'm doing so leave comments or suggestions if you like.


End file.
